


it don't take a word, not a single word

by morphological (phraseme)



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Developing Relationship, First Kiss, M/M, References to Illness, Walks On The Beach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2021-01-22 17:20:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21305723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phraseme/pseuds/morphological
Summary: you don't know whybut you're dying to tryyou wanna kiss the girl(aka middle school boys are incurable gossips, too)
Relationships: Saeki Koujirou/Yukimura Seiichi
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	it don't take a word, not a single word

**Author's Note:**

  * For [scheherazade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scheherazade/gifts).

The only person who doesn't seem shocked by it all is Yanagi. 

"It seems obvious," he shrugs. "He was infatuated with Fuji Shuusuke for years."

"Fuji…?" Sanada's brows knit together, the only sign of his famed concentration cracking as he thinks about the evidence. "_ Seigaku's _ Fuji Shuusuke?"

"Do you know anyone else by that name?" Yanagi tries not to look so pleased, although the possibility of this outcome was so low it must have been nigh-impossible. At the very least, it was highly improbable, but the data was there just as Yanagi had gathered it, plain as day. And the scowl on Sanada's face. 

"Hmph." Yanagi listens to the sounds of the ocean, the waves crashing on the shore a reassuring undercurrent; he remembers childhood trips to the seaside, summer vacation and the relentless heat of the sun. He can hear voices, carried by the salt-laden breeze, Yukimura laughing as he talks. It's been a while since Yanagi's heard that sound, too.

* * *

  


"Are you having fun?" Kojirou is so thoughtful. They'd folded up his wheelchair, leaving it to rest against the rocky shore while they ventured closer to the water. Feeling sand between his toes, a warm sunset coloring the sky, Yukimura feels better than he has in a long time.

"Yes." He sees no reason to lie. Kojirou's body radiates heat, his arm wrapped around Yukimura's waist. He hadn't wanted to be presumptive, but Yukimura had wanted to go to the seaside, and wanted to go with him. Kojirou had been so earnest when he asked. "Thank you for inviting me."

Kojirou's face is turning pink. It could be a trick of the light, the sunset and the pink clouds scudding across the horizon, but Yukimura can feel how he tenses up when he touches him, smiles at him. Yukimura's entire set of talents rely on the senses, and Kojirou is charmingly, artlessly honest.

It makes him laugh. 

* * *

  


"But this is good, right?" 

He really should have known there was more to it than this. Saeki was a dependable guy, more than most, but Kurobane's _heard_ _things_ about Fuji Shuusuke. Maybe, under his polite-boy demeanor, Saeki was someone who liked that sort: soft on the outside, but wearing danger like a jacket. 

David is humming what sounds like "Kiss the Girl" under his breath and, if that's the case, Kurobane might not have any choice but to drop-kick him into the ocean for good. Kurobane's watched stuff like this on TV: some animals pretend to be meek, waiting for a chance to trap their prey. The shows cut away when they eat, but Kurobane doesn't need to see what happens next. He knows. He's seen the guys at barbecue.

"Stop it," he whispers, and elbows David in the ribs for good measure. The humming stops.

Yukimura _ looks _ like a nice guy. But his reputation precedes him, and everyone's heard how he can reduce any player to a gibbering mess on the court. He might actually eat Saeki alive. Kurobane refuses to lose his vice captain before Nationals. 

David is humming again. 

* * *

Despite the warm weather, cool breeze, and the gentle sound of ocean waves along the shore, Sanada does not relax. Yanagi makes notes about the humidity, wind speed, and temperature of the day next to the tally of times Yukimura's laughed in Saeki's presence. He would have to compare that to the average day re: Yukimura's smile or other expressions of mirth, but so far the sound is frequent and significant.

Sanada is so focused on watching Yukimura that he might not have noticed they're not the only ones following them. Yanagi can see (and hear) another two from Rokkaku, the doubles pair with terrible puns. One of them is even humming a song on and off, although the other one seems to have a better grasp on the idea of surveillance. Yanagi can't quite place the song, though. He has not mastered the art of musical notation, or else he would have written down the notes in the margins. It's strangely familiar.  


* * *

Kojirou gets him a cup of shaved ice. He trades polite smiles with the vendor as he pays, and Yukimura is charmed. Their fingertips brush when Kojirou hands the cup over, red syrup sweet under Yukimura's nose. He smiles. "Thank you." 

"It was nothing," Kojirou says quickly, a light flush high on his cheeks. He's surprisingly vulnerable, something that Yukimura had never thought to attribute to someone his own age. In his experience, any visible weakness is fatal. 

"Nonsense," Yukimura laughs. "I'll pay you back." 

Maybe there was something about this place, the ocean air and the warm sand, that makes people so honest. Kojirou seems like he was always this inviting, his arm back around Yukimura's waist. It feels natural, easygoing, to share space with him this way.

* * *

Either Saeki has nerves of steel or he's lived some secret past life as a thrill-seeking agent of chaos, Kurobane isn't sure. David looks positively beside himself while he whisper-screams, "_Oh my god_, are they gonna—"

Kurobane clamps his hands over David's mouth and hisses, "Shut up, shut up, _shutupshutup_!" Of all the times in the world the universe had heard David's stupid jokes and made them into a reality, he thinks, today did not have to be on the list. He watches them lean closer together and wonders if he should cover David's mouth or his eyes. "Oh my god, they're gonna—"  
  


* * *

Yanagi breaks his pencil lead several times as he gauges the angle and velocity of Yukimura's head in proximity to the target zone. He's never had to observe something so slow and yet inevitable, a perfect serve in an ace game. "I don't know if he's done this before," he mutters, half aloud but mostly to himself. It would be pertinent data, after all, to help calculate the confidence interval.

"If Fuji's anything like Yukimura," Sanada mutters—Yanagi had almost forgotten he was there—a dark look in his eyes, "I'd bet not."

* * *

Kojirou is honest to a fault: it shows in his surprise when Yukimura leans in close. "Thank you," he says quietly, and he finds that he means it more than he usually might. "Today was wonderful." Yukimura can guess that the sights, the beach, and the careful escort would have happened even if he hadn't come with his usual accompaniment: the wheelchair, the kit in his bag, and his two not-so-subtle sentries on the far side of the rocks.

"It really was my pleasure." Kojirou's voice is muted, his eyes focused on Yukimura's. He's done that all day: watch him like he's(not made of glass, but) something dear to him. He likes that about Kojirou, how Kojirou looks like he knows what happens next and would still wait forever until Yukimura permits it to happen. He's had Kojirou's arm around his waist for the better part of an hour, the warmth of his tall body bleeding into Yukimura's skin.

It all adds up: the gentle service, the easy touches. Kojirou has been, whether or not he's aware of it, telegraphing romantic overtures to Yukimura the whole day. Not that he's blind to it, but Yukimura had assumed there would be something else after the fact. That there's nothing behind the hesitant smile Kojirou offers him, nothing but a painfully naked hope, is incredible.

He answers with as much sincerity as he can muster. Yukimura can hear the muffled squawk of someone else (another spectator, perhaps) and gathers the front of Kojirou's shirt to pull him in. Kojirou's eyelids flutter shut, and if he opens his mouth to speak, Yukimura doesn't know. This is the rush he gets from the court, taking the breath from another person's lungs into his own, engulfing their space until there was no dividing himself from the other. In moments like this he can almost will their thoughts into his mind, and Yukimura can guess that Kojirou would rather give up air than break away from him now.

It seems a pity to let him pass out on the sand after such a lovely date. Yukimura puts a hand up to Kojirou's face, watches his eyes open in an ash grey haze. "It's getting late," he says gently, and Kojirou seems to shake himself back to reality. "I have to go home."

"Yes, of course." His mouth is cherry red. Yukimura watches the color glazing his lips and thinks, _I put that there_. Ever the gentleman, Kojirou offers him an arm. "Can I walk you to the station?"

Yukimura brushes past the arm, and laces his fingers with Kojirou's. They're thin but strong; Yukimura approves. He smiles, and looks at the rocks where Yanagi and Sanada are, no doubt, scrambling to pack the evidence of their presence. "Lead the way," he says, and tries to suppress the giddy laughter in his chest. 

**Author's Note:**

> OMAKE
> 
> Renji—
> 
> Observational data (log period: 1 hour total of intermittent AM observation, 4 hours total of PM observation, for a period of six days) as requested. He did not change his behavior upon observation this week, highly unusual. Your hypothesis is intriguing.


End file.
